


Lost and Found

by rainbowdalek



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, gigolas bang 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1925832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowdalek/pseuds/rainbowdalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galadriel sends Legolas and Gimli on a quest. She's asked them to find a missing amulet, but she's hoping they find each other along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

Aragorn and Arwen’s wedding was a blessed and merry occasion, as the people of Gondor celebrated not just the return of their king but the return of peacetime. Galadriel kept to the fringes of the celebration, conversing with guests both common and noble as the mood took her. Throughout the crowd she occasionally saw one of the Fellowship, each of them now bright and carefree, laughing with their friends and fellow partygoers. It was strange and beautiful to see the weight of Sauron’s threat lifted off so many shoulders.

Looking to step away from the bustle of the party, she stepped out of the hall into an alcove, lit by both the torches ensconced in the walls and the dim light of the dying sun, filtering through stained-glass windows. There were a few free tables in here, out of the way of the festivities, although one was occupied by two unlikely figures. Legolas Thranduillion and Gimli son of Gloin seemed to have no interest in dancing; they seemed more than content in their current company.

“Ah, my Lady!” Gimli stood and bowed as he noticed her approach; Legolas did the same. She bid them sit.

“May I join you?” she asked, and they welcomed her to sit. She gathered her skirt and claimed the chair next to Gimli.

“My lady Galadriel, it is a pleasure to see you here.” Legolas gestured to the cup in her hand. “Can I refresh your drink for you?”

“No thank you, child, my glass is full yet.” Looking at the Elf, she was amazed at the change the quest – and its fulfillment – had wrought in him. The last time they had spoken, the loss of Gandalf had been raw and new; for an Elf especially, unaccustomed to the loss of his comrades, a friend’s death was a heavy blow. Now he just smiled gaily and raised his own mug in a toast to her.

“What brings you away from the party, Milady, if I may?” Gimli asked, blushing slightly at her proximity. She smiled at him and the color spread across his already-ruddy cheeks.

“Simply a desire to sit. It’s not often I leave my Wood, and I think the legends of me are frightening some of the guests.” She laughed lightly. “Although I could ask the same question of you two; Legolas, I never thought to see a son of Thranduil step away from the center of a party.”

“I leave my father’s revels to my father,” Legolas said with a huff of affectionate laughter. “I’ve always found more enjoyment in the company of a good friend than in the din of a wild party.”

“It makes me happy to see that you’ve looked past the prejudices of our race,” she said, taking another sip from her chalice. “And you, Gimli?”

“Er, aye. That is to say, yes, I prefer Legolas’s company to anyone else’s as well,” Gimli stammered, and she was surprised to see _Legolas_ flush at that.

Could it be? An Elf in love with a Dwarf? The world was full of new and delightful things, as always. She could live another age and still be surprised daily. And Gimli seemed equally enamored; it was clear from the way he looked at his companion. And yet neither seemed to realize the other reciprocated.

By the light of Earendil, if there was one thing she couldn’t resist, it was meddling in situations like this. A plan began to form in her mind as the three of them watched the party. As if on cue, Arwen walked past, arm in arm with a guest, talking animatedly.

“A truly beautiful affair, isn’t it? My granddaughter looks so lovely.”

“Granddaugh-“ Gimli sputtered into his drink, and coughed violently. His eyes flicked between Arwen and the lady next to him. He cleared his throat, muttering something about Elves under his breath as Galadriel and Legolas laughed.

“I know that she wishes for nothing other than her husband, but it saddens me that I was not able to provide her with a gift worthy of the occasion. Time has traveled quickly, of late.” Galadriel sighed.

“I’ve heard the tales, Lady, they said you toppled Dol Guldur yourself with a powerful spell,” Legolas said.

“We’ve all been a bit busy recently, I’d say. I think you can be forgiven showing up without a present,” Gimli added with a grin.

“Ah, well, you do have a point. Sadly, the gift I would have liked to give her was lost to me many decades ago. A pendant I once carried,” she added, “that grants exceptional luck to couples in love.”

“What happened to it?” Gimli asked.

“I meant to give it to Arwen many years ago, when she first wrote to me telling me that she had found her Beren. With circumstances like theirs, they would need whatever luck I could give them. But the party I sent to Rivendell was waylaid by a band of orcs as they neared the mountains, and their treasure was taken. In my Mirror that night I watched a troll pick through what the orcs had left, and carry off the chest that had held the amulet.”

“That’s… that’s a terrible story, Lady. Does the troll still have it, do you think?” Legolas asked.

“It rests in a dirty cave in the East Emnet, somewhere along the route to the Gap of Rohan, to this day.” She sighed again, leaning to rest her chin on her hand. “I meant to send someone to search for it, but my forces remain busy clearing orcs out of the lands between my wood and the mountains. I could not ask it of them.” She watched their faces as she set the bait. A second passed, and then Gimli spoke up.

“We could go to find it for you, Milady,” he said eagerly, and Legolas nodded agreement after another second.

She faked shock blithely. “I would not ask you to, so soon after your previous adventure’s conclusion.”

“Eh, what’s for us here but to get fat and lazy with celebrations, right, Legolas?” Gimli asked, and Legolas grinned.

“We’d be happy to help you, Lady. As I said, I’d rather spend time with a friend than in a great party, and I have no better friends.”

“You do me a great boon, my friends.” A delighted smile lit her own face. “When can you start?”

 

* * *

 

_Legolas stood before the thrones of Lothlorien in confusion. It was several days’ ride from Minas Tirith to the Golden Wood, for one thing, and he did not remember making such a journey. He turned to his right and found Gimli standing there, a similarly baffled expression on his face._

_“Forgive me for calling on you like this,” Galadriel’s voice rang out like a bell, and where the dais had been empty before the queenly Elf now sat in her delicate silver throne. Gimli jumped, swearing under his breath in Khuzdul. Her words echoed around the chamber unsettlingly, as though a hundred Elves repeated her salutation in whispers._

A dream _, Legolas realized. He knew, distantly, that the Lady had such powers, but he had never thought to be their subject. She stood to receive them as they strode down the path between the mallorn trees._

_As they came near, she bestowed one of her slim smiles on them. Legolas and Gimli bowed, Gimli so deeply that his beard nearly brushed the floor._

_“I promised I would be in touch once I could provide a more accurate location for my lost necklace, and this seemed far simpler than sending a messenger.” Galadriel said all this as though it were the easiest thing in the world, and Legolas stared a bit before finding his voice._

_“Of... of course, milady. What have you seen?”_

_“I have looked in my Mirror, and to the best of my knowledge the necklace does indeed lie in a troll’s horde in the East Emnet. Following the road north from Minas Tirith, you will come after several day’s ride to a statue of a long-dead queen. The creature’s cave is a league north and west of it, in a clearing before a hillside.”_

_“Seems easy enough,” said Gimli. “We’ll have your amulet to you – or, well, to the Queen—in no time.”_

_“Excellent,” Galadriel said, and sat once again. “I’ll remain in contact with you as you go. Remember your dreams.”_

* * *

 

A light breeze stirred the curtains of his chamber's window as Legolas washed his face and combed his hair. It had been a week now since the wedding, and while the celebrations were finally starting to die down, he yearned to be out of the stone walls of Minas Tirith and back on the road. His traveling gear had been packed away snugly in the back of his closet for weeks, and his weapons had seen no use but demonstrations of skill and daily sparring practice. He finished tying his braids and went over to the window to look out on the plain. He could see the glimmer of the river in the distance, and he felt the urge to _go_ stir inside him. The longing for the Sea had hit him hard when he'd first heard the gulls’ cries, but here in Minas Tirith it was muted, and he felt far less desperate to build a ship when the promise of time spent alone with Gimli was close on the horizon. It had been close to a month since they’d been able to truly spend time together without interruption; a city still recovering from a war had craftsmen and servants and maids everywhere, and even in the gardens they were often interrupted by a friendly gardener or one of the palace folk out for a walk. He had lived so many centuries, but this last month had seemed like an eternity.

To be alone with Gimli at last... but that was a dangerous trail of thought. What would happen once they were alone together?

He colored slightly as images came to his mind unbidden. He did not often sleep, and more rarely dreamed, but his dreams of late had been focused on a certain person, and his subconscious was not as modest as his waking mind. As much as Legolas hoped and believed that Gimli returned his feelings, he still had trouble imagining some of those scenarios play out.

He shook those thoughts out of his mind. His dreams last night had not been romantic, although they had still featured his friend prominently. Had Galadriel truly visited his dreams? She had left Minas Tirith shortly after the wedding to return to her lands, with a promise that, once home, she would send word of where exactly the two of them should go to find her missing amulet. He had expected a message sent by courier or raven, but it seemed that Galadriel’s powers were greater than he realized; he remembered their conversation clearly, and it had felt peculiarly real.

Legolas resolved to speak to Gimli as soon as he could. If Gimli had shared his dream, then he was certain that Galadriel had indeed contacted them in the night; if not, it seemed awfully desperate for his mind to create a destination just so he and Gimli could be alone together more quickly.

 

* * *

 

Legolas thought to meet Gimli in the training courts, as was their habit in the mornings, but when he arrived there the Dwarf was nowhere to be found. It was early yet, though, and only a few guards milled about, sparring with quarterstaffs or practice swords. The sun glinted off the high white walls and gleamed off the blunted training weapons mounted on racks around the space. A small crowd had gathered at one end of the space, and the clack of wooden blades rose from the group. He went over to see what had drawn their attention.

Sliding through the crowd, he saw that two women were the bearers of the practice blades. Eowyn, hair braided back from her face and cheeks red with effort, swung her sword down toward the Queen of Gondor. Arwen might look unmussed to a casual observer, but Legolas could see the sheen of sweat on her forehead. She blocked the strike with a low grunt and spun, catching Eowyn in the ribs with the tip of her sword.

"Point to the Queen!" a man in royal livery called out. "Match to Her Majesty!" Some of the crowd applauded or cheered. Arwen and Eowyn handed their swords off to pages and clasped hands in friendship. He saw Faramir peel away from the wall he’d been leaning against and attach himself to Eowyn’s side, a proprietary hand on her barely-healed sword arm.

"She'll give the Queen quite a challenge once she's fully recovered," a voice said from his side, and he spun to see that Gimli had appeared at his side.

“Indeed,” he agreed, looking down at his friend, “although I’ve heard she’s leaving the city soon.”

“Heading home?” Gimli asked.

Legolas shook his head. “Aragorn told me that she and Faramir are spearheading the rebuilding of Osgiliath.” The reason he had been looking for Gimli suddenly returned to him, and he chewed his lip for a second before speaking again. “Gimli, I… I’m not much in the mood for sparring this morning; would you walk with me instead?” The crowd around them had begun to disperse and they moved with it, walking back toward the far end of the court.

“Of course, laddie,” Gimli said, a concerned note in his voice. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing so serious. It’s just…” Legolas trailed off as they reached a slim back stairway that would lead them back up into the palace, gesturing that Gimli should go first. He continued once they reached the top. “Last night I had a most peculiar dream.”

Gimli laughed. “Is that all? We’ve seen so much of late, I’m surprised when I wake and haven’t dreamed of something bizarre.”

The corridor they had entered led out onto one of the many gardens of Minas Tirith. The flowers were starting to bloom again now that time could be spared from defense for to occasionally water them, and though Legolas was well accustomed to living within stone walls, he still found peace among their natural beauty. Here ivy crept up the stark white walls, and sprawling orange lilies flourished in the well-tended beds. The stone path beneath their feet was lined with flowering hedges trimmed into pleasant shapes.

Legolas smiled. “You have a point, my friend, but this dream stood out among the rest. I dreamed that the lady Galadriel came to us and spoke of our quest.”

Gimli started and drew to a halt. “Mahal’s beard, I thought my mind had made it up. She can do that then, walk in dreams?”

“I’d heard it spoken of, but I’ve never experienced it myself,” Legolas said. “I also wondered if it was just a passing fancy, but if you’ve shared the same vision…” He turned away to focus on one of thehedges, kneeling to knock away a dry brown branch one of the gardeners had missed. “…Then the legends are certainly true. She spoke to you of a statue, and a cave?”

“A long-dead queen and a troll’s horde, indeed,” Gimli confirmed. Legolas felt a rush of relief that his dreams had been real.

“Well, when do you want to leave?” Gimli asked, unperturbed. “I’ve been getting lazy, these last few weeks of living in luxury,” Gimli cracked a grin. “Practically forgotten how to swing an axe, I have.”

Legolas laughed. “I don’t know that that’s possible, but I’m as eager to be on the road as you are. What say you we start out tomorrow?”

 

* * *

 

They rode out of the gates of Minas Tirith the following day in a fine rain that soon soaked through all their gear. Aragorn had met them as they left the royal apartments to see them off, and he raised a hand in farewell as the huge wooden doors fell shut again. They’d agreed not to tell him the specifics of their quest, so as not to spoil the surprise of what was really a gift for him as well as Arwen.

“The Lady Galadriel has asked a favor of us,” was all Legolas had said. “We should not be long in returning.”

“Go well, then, my friends,” Aragorn had said, although he still looked a bit skeptical. “I wish you an easy road.”

Despite the damp, it was a fine thing to ride together, speaking of many things or of nothing at all, with no great doom above their heads. Legolas was content to simply relax in Gimli’s company. At least he was trying to be, he reminded himself, steadfastly ignoring the way his hands would tighten on Arod’s reins as Gimli’s broad chest pressed against his back. For miles outside the city, the plain they rode across was only beginning to recover from the battles that had only recently been won there. The grass was growing back in patches, and dark circles of ash where the Enemy’s fallen had been burned still marred the ground. Legolas suspected it would look less dismal had the sky been a less bleak shade of uniform grey.

As they got further north, however, the landscape began to change. The rolling plains near Minas Tirith were pocked with many hills and crests and small valleys, but they leveled out along the banks of the Anduin. The land here was, however, dotted with outcroppings of rock, as though some giant creature had thrown them there and forgot about them. The two of them stopped briefly at noontime, huddling under a tree to eat a cold lunch of bread and cheese from Gondor’s kitchens. The rain continued well into the afternoon, and they grew more and more sodden. Finally Gimli spoke up.

“Life and death dinnae rest on this quest, Master Elf. What say we get out of this weather and warm ourselves?”

“You’re right,” Legolas conceded. He pulled Arod up next to one of the strange outcroppings; it offered a bit of an overhang, which was better than no shelter at all, he supposed.

“I’ll see if I can catch us something to eat,” Legolas said as he dismounted. He turned to offer Gimli a hand getting down. “Can you try and get a fire going?”

“It’ll be a challenge finding a dry twig within a hundred leagues, lad, but I’ll give it my best.” Gimli set about pulling flint and stone from his pack as Legolas, wincing, headed back into the rain.

He returned a half hour later with a brace of rabbits; thin, sad creatures, representative of the game out on the brown plain, but more than enough to feed them for the night.

The smell of smoke filled the air as he approached the campsite. Gimli had indeed managed to get a small fire going, and had set up a clothesline under the edge of the rock to hang his soaked gear on. Gimli himself was warming himself by the fire in nothing but his breeches. Legolas’s mouth went dry, and, when Gimli asked him how the hunt had gone, he only held up the rabbits mutely. Gimli gave him an odd look, and he flushed. It wasn’t that they hadn’t seen more of each other over the last year, but the circumstances had greatly changed. There was a world of difference between washing musty clothes in a stream with the rest of the Fellowship present and sitting alone with his friend in a state of undress.

“No sense staying damp, eh?” Gimli gestured to the clothesline. “Throw your stuff up there, it’ll likely be dry – well, drier, at least, by morning.”

“Ah, of… of course.” Legolas handed him the rabbits, and Gimli set to preparing them for supper. Legolas awkwardly pulled free the straps and belts that held his knives and quiver in place and undid the clasps of his coat. Sliding his arms free of the sleeves, he hung it over the clothesline. After a second’s hesitation, he set his teeth and pulled the light shirt he wore underneath over his head as well. He didn’t want Gimli to think he was uncomfortable. His cheeks burned, but hopefully Gimli would just think it a trick of the firelight.

Full night fell as the food cooked, and shortly they dined in companionable silence on a stew of rabbit and greens.

“Gimli,” Legolas began, as the Dwarf prodded the ashes. It was unclear whether he meant to extinguish the fire or rekindle it. “It is a strange quest we find ourselves on.”

“A series of them, truly,” Gimli replied. “First a magic ring, now a magic amulet. At least this one doesn’t have a sinister connection to an ancient evil. I’ve had quite enough of that for one lifetime.”

Legolas laughed. “Yes, the support of love is a far less heavy purpose than the destruction of evil.” He paused, trying to phrase what he wanted to say next as delicately as possible. “Gimli, the Elves have many tales of romance in their legends. Tell me of Dwarven love?”

Legolas’s vision was extraordinary in the daylight, but by night he could only make out Gimli’s profile against the waning light of the fire. The Dwarf was still for a long moment, and then he settled back on his haunches.

“Dwarrows are very secretive about these things, but I have never been a particularly good secret-keeper,” he said, and Legolas could hear the grin in his voice at that. “A Dwarf may couple with many, and love his friends as brothers and sisters, but in romance they may love only one other. Some go their entire lives without knowing their One; some marry for convenience or friendship if they cannot find the match Mahal created for them. Some never even feel the pull. I know my uncle Oin never did, and he never seemed the worse for it.”

“Only one other, in their whole life?” Legolas asked, aghast. “What if you never find them?”

“Tis a thing of great tragedy, to feel the pull and never meet your fated love. But it has happened. Or worse, Dwarrows have found their One as they expired on the battlefield, or among the deathly ill.” Gimli seemed personally upset by that idea; Legolas wondered if he had known someone that had lost their love, but it seemed impertinent to ask.

Gimli continued. “But to find your One, to know the love Mahal had planned for you and have it returned – that is a cause for great celebration. No Dwarf would dare to stand between another Dwarrow and their One, once they had found them.”

“Do you have… have you felt the pull, _mellon nin_?” Legolas asked cautiously. “Is there someone out there for you?”

Gimli sighed, and the fire made strange shadows flicker across his face. “I have known my One was out there since I was very young,” he said, and his voice became very small. “I wonder, though, if they will ever have me.”

Legolas’s heart yearned to reach out and gather Gimli into his arms, and a small, bitter part of him hated whoever was lucky enough to be the recipient of Gimli’s affections. “I can think of no one as wonderful as you, my dearest friend,” he said. Anyone, be they Dwarf, Man, or Elf, should be honored to be your One.”

“That means a great deal, laddie,” Gimli said after a long moment of silence. “Thank you.” He was quiet for a long time after that, and Legolas could think of nothing to say to break the silence. They set up bedrolls around the coals of their cooking fire, and Legolas dreamed fitfully of Gimli pledging himself in marriage to a faceless Dwarf. He tried to yell at them to stop, but found he’d lost his voice. He woke in the night sweating despite the damp, and did not fall back asleep for quite some time.

 

* * *

 

It took four more days of riding northward and east along the banks of the Anduin to reach the statue Galadriel had spoken of in their dreams. They did not speak further of their conversation that first night, but Legolas turned it over in his mind constantly, looking at it like he imagined a Dwarf might examine a precious gem. Gimli was in love with someone. Gimli knew who that someone was. Gimli was not sure if that person would accept his feelings. Yet who in all of Middle-earth would reject the affections of one as wonderful as his beloved? He was so lost in thought that he did not notice the statue until Gimli pointed it out, a dark shape against the brownish grass that flowed out around them like a sea.

The statue itself was meant to be a person, but its features had been worn down over so many years that it was impossible to tell if it was an Elf or of the race of Men (its height alone disqualified its Dwarvishness). A grey hand was raised high above its head in joy, or anger, or greeting; without an expression it was hard to tell. All its worth now was as a guidepost.

It was a quick ride from there to the clearing where the troll made its home. They tethered Arod on a loose line a ways from the cave (despite all they’d been through together, the smell of troll appeared to unsettle him), and set up camp. They watched the caves for two nights, and rested while the sun shone. After two nights had passed with no activity from within or nearby, they judged the troll dead or long gone.

A lively wind played in the trees outside, but inside the troll’s horde the air was still and heavy. The cavern stank of rotting meat and the troll’s leavings, and Legolas’s eyes had watered at first, but he was slowly becoming used to it. The late morning sun filtered in through the cave’s opening, glinting off the heaps of misbegotten treasure.

“Did I ever tell you that my father fought trolls, once?” Gimli asked, peering closely at the face stamped onto the coin he held. Legolas set aside another pile of rusted iron swords and moved to dig through the next chest.

“No, I haven’t heard that story,” he said. The grim golden stares of long-dead kings of men glared up at him from the chest; it seemed to be all coins again. From the variety of weights and imprints they seemed to represent all of Middle-earth; there must have been a trade route nearby when this region was fairer.

The amulet was probably elsewhere, but it could also be at the bottom of this box, so he upended it and began sifting through the pieces. “Was this during their quest?”

Gimli buffed a dull old shield experimentally with his coat sleeve. The action only raised a cloud of dust, and he coughed. “Aye, it was right at the beginning. Now, fighting is a strong word for what happened, to be fair…”

The troll’s horde was surprisingly vast, but Gimli was a lively storyteller, and he made the time pass quickly. The mishap with Frodo’s uncle and the trolls soon flowed into other stories about Thorin’s company.

“Of course, one of my favorites was the tale of how my da and his mates escaped from right beneath the noses of a whole palaceful of Elves,” he said, with a mischievous glance over at Legolas.

Legolas grimaced, remembering the astonishment of the prison guards and his father’s frustrated rage. “Certainly not the Greenwood’s finest hour.”

Gimli just laughed at his expression. “Then again,” he said, “I got up to some pretty daring escapes myself as a wee one.” Gimli launched into a story about a bakery, some honey cakes, and an angry dwarrowdam.

Legolas was sniggering in a particularly inelegant fashion at Gimli’s latest tale when he heard the crunch of footfalls on leaves outside. He froze, gaze flying to the cave entrance, where he realized the day had flown by and it was nearly dusk. They had lit torches in the midafternoon, when the sun no longer shone into the cave, and they’d gotten so caught up in exchanging stories that they hadn’t noticed it growing increasingly darker outside.

“Is somebody home?” A rough voice bellowed. “What is somebody doin’ at home in _my_ home?” Gimli swore under his breath in Khuzdul, and they both ducked behind outcroppings of rock as the troll knelt down to stare into the cave. “Looks like someone’s been in my stash!” Legolas nocked an arrow as Gimli slowly and quietly reached over and grabbed his axe from where he’d left it leaning against the cave wall.

A grimy arm poked its way in through the door, grasping at anything within reach. Legolas caught Gimli’s eye as it crept past them, and nodded. Gimli swung down with the axe, chopping deeply into the troll’s forearm. A roar echoed through the clearing and the arm withdrew. There was an almighty thump as the troll fell backward on its haunches, and the two of them flew out of the cave to press their advantage.

Legolas was surprised at the ease with which they gained the upper hand over the creature; he supposed that, while the troll had caught them unaware, it had also not expected two skilled warriors to pour out of its cave. They had, after all, fought much more unpleasant things in recent weeks. Gimli laid about its legs with his axe, as Legolas fired arrow after arrow. Confused and in pain, the troll scrabbled about with its good arm, trying to get a hold of one of its assailants. Legolas dodged its fist and clambered up its back, driving one of his white blades into the back of its neck. The troll let out an ugly grunt and fell with a crash that rocked the clearing.

Legolas leaned in and tugged something away from the troll’s filthy vest. He scrubbed at it with the end of his sleeve for a few seconds, revealing a bright, metallic shine. “He had it the whole time,” he said faintly.

Gimli sagged to the ground and let his head fall back against the rock with a huff of breath. “Great Mahal, I thought we were done fighting monsters over jewelry,” he said, and Legolas began to laugh. Gimli joined him, deep chuckles that echoed around the clearing.

 

* * *

 

 Prize in hand, they had no further obligation to remain around the troll and its stink, and no interest in the other contents of its horde. The moon was bright and full, bathing the sparse forest in near-daylight as they hiked back to where they’d tethered Arod and set up camp. As Legolas unpacked out their bedrolls, Gimli polished the amulet up properly and then stowed it in his knapsack, carefully wrapped in clean rags.

“That was a songworthy venture, eh? Have any two beings ever slain a troll in such a short time?” He asked, leaning back against the nearest tree and stretching his legs out. Legolas looked over at the knapsack suspiciously for a second; he wondered if the amulet’s power only worked on couples in reciprocated love.

“Likely we just caught it unawares,” Legolas said, after a bit of silence. “After all, we’ve hunted much fiercer creatures of late.”

Gimli rummaged in his pack and pulled out a sachet of lembas. Breaking a wafer in half, he tossed one piece to Legolas. “You’ve probably got the right of it there. A troll’s nothing compared to an Oliphaunt, eh?”

“That was one time!” Legolas objected, taking a bite of the wafer. Gimli laughed at the flush in his cheeks.

They finished their lembas and Legolas went to check on Arod’s tether once more before they retired. He stretched out on his bedroll in the bright moonlight, and Gimli did the same. Soon Gimli’s snores rang through the trees, but Legolas laid awake much longer. Was the amulet going to affect them because of his feelings for his friend? If it did, and it appeared to be doing so, how long would it take Gimli to notice that they were having better luck than they ought to?

 

* * *

 

 When he finally fell asleep in the grey pre-dawn, he was immediately swept away into another dreamscape. This time, he recognized what was happening immediately, and turned to look for the Lady of the Wood. She stood by one of the columns that lined the high-roofed room, chatting quietly with Gimli.

“There you are, laddie? Couldn’t sleep?” Gimli strode over toward him. Galadriel followed silently.

“Ah, no, I mean, I fell asleep eventually. I suppose I just wasn’t that tired,” Legolas lied. “Sorry to make you wait for me.” He looked up at Galadriel, and was taken aback a little at the twinkle in her eye; he suspected she knew he was lying.

She said nothing about it, however, choosing to offer only a simple, “Welcome, Legolas. Walk with us.” They followed her as she turned and led them through the columns into a brightly sunlit courtyard. Dust motes floated in the beams of light warming the space, and a songbird trilled in the distance. Legolas wondered how much of the dreams’ settings were Galadriel’s specific intent. Did she create the birds intentionally, or were they just a part of what her mind summoned when she thought of Lothlorien? He briefly searched her face for signs of strain or tension, but she seemed as serene as ever as she continued to speak. “It is good to see you both. You were able to recover the amulet?” She sat down on a delicate wooden bench, and gestured for them to take seats as well.

“Yes, milady,” Legolas said, settling himself into one of the chairs. Gimli sprawled into the one next to him.

“Had to take down a troll to do it, but he wasn’t much trouble in the end. Went down awful easy, really.”

“Really?” Galadriel’s eyes sparkled, and she turned her gaze to Legolas. _This was not all I hoped you would find together_ , said her voice in his head. He quailed from her stare, looking down at the floor; what did she mean? Did she know his heart? She certainly could do so if she chose to. Did she have suspicions about the necklace?

“Yes, milady, it was no trouble at all,” he said, making an effort to remain outwardly calm. He wondered if he could ask her privately about its effects on those whose feelings were unrequited.

“I owe you a great deal for reclaiming this for me,” she said, finally looking away from Legolas. For a second he thought she was done speaking, and began to stand as if to go. “And yet I find I must ask you for another boon,” the Lady continued. He dropped back down into the chair.

“If ever you need our aid with anything, Lady, we are at your service," Legolas said. Gimli nodded in agreement.

“As I said, this amulet grants great luck to couples in love, and in this new Age I find that I no longer wish to maintain a separate society alongside that of Men. I want to lend what aid I can to the rebuilding efforts of Osgiliath, and I know that the Lady of Rohan and the Steward of Gondor are leading that effort.” She settled the folds of her dress around her knees. “My Mirror shows me that they’ve been having difficulty with raids of late and are in need of some luck to turn the tides, if you follow my meaning.”

“You’d like us to visit them with the amulet while they finish their fortifications?” Gimli supplied.

She smiled widely. “I would not have you tell them of the amulet’s powers, for fear that it would spoil the surprise for its true recipients. But…”

“…but there is no harm in a pair of friends showing up to lend aid, and everyone knows an unpleasant task passes more quickly in good company,” Legolas finished.

“Exactly my thoughts, child.” Galadriel stood, and the light of the dream-sun lit her hair like molten gold. Legolas heard Gimli’s breath catch at the sight, and repressed the mindless and tiny stab of jealousy that needled him. “So I can depend on you for this other favor as well?”

“Of course. We will set off for Osgiliath in the morning,” Legolas confirmed. He bowed, and Gimli followed suit in the Dwarvish fashion. As Galadriel turned to leave the courtyard, her dream started to fade around them. Her smile, however, followed Legolas into his regular dreaming, and he slept restlessly until the late morning birdsong awoke him, unsettled by the knowledge that Galadriel appeared to know his heart’s deepest desire.

 

* * *

 

It took nearly a week of riding to reach the city on the Anduin. The journey itself was uneventful, but Legolas had begun to be suspicious of every small thing that went right for them. The first night they came on an abandoned homestead, and were able to cook their evening meal in a real fireplace. Arod ran long and hard without wearying, and the weather was beautiful without fail. Gimli joked the third night that he must finally be used to horseback, because he felt as limber at the end of a long day’s ride as he had that morning. The fifth afternoon they came upon the banks of the Anduin, and Legolas caught a fish large enough to feed them both on his first try.

He couldn’t help wondering what was wrong with the amulet. It was clearly affecting them; all these little victories might be unremarkable by themselves, but all together it was clear that something was tilting luck in their favor. Except it shouldn’t be doing anything for them, any more than it had brought good luck to the troll. They weren’t a couple in love. They were a pair, to be sure, and Legolas knew Gimli cared for him deeply as a friend, but he certainly wasn’t in love with him. His worry at how his friend would react when he finally cottoned on to the fact that the amulet was feeding off of Legolas’s desperate and unwanted feelings gnawed at him constantly, and on the eve of the fifth day Legolas reached out to the Lady as he laid down to sleep, hoping she would hear his supplication.

The dream came to him as soon as his eyes closed, it seemed; Galadriel stood before him clothed in simple white. This time they stood in the chamber that housed her Mirror: the stone basin lay behind her, its water still and dark. She smiled at him. “You called?”

Legolas bowed. “Forgive my impertinence, Lady—“

“Do not fear, child; I am at your service,” she said soothingly. “Tell me what it is that troubles you.”

“I- ” he began, then swallowed hard and continued all in a rush. “I was wondering if the amulet requires reciprocated love to work, or if it will lend luck to anyone with romantic feelings.”

“You fear that your feelings for Gimli are affecting your luck?” She clarified. He flushed, but nodded resolutely.

“I don’t want to burden him with feelings he doesn’t return, but I fear that sooner or later he’ll notice whether I want him to or not, because of the amulet.”

“Child, the spell on the amulet is not a complicated magic. It is not my place to share Gimli’s mind or his feelings with you, but the charm only works in the presence of two people in love.”

A brief hope that perhaps he _was_ Gimli’s One after all flashed through his mind, but he quashed it ruthlessly. Gimli wasn’t in love with him; he was only jumping to that conclusion because he wanted it to be true. He thought about the words Galadriel had used. Old magic like this often had strange loopholes or double meanings.

“Two people in love, you say, but do they have to be in love with each other? Or will it work as long as there are two people around who have romantic feelings for others?”

She looked at him, her expression inscrutable. “I cannot speak further without unfairly revealing Gimli’s heart. Think on what I’ve said, and I believe the conclusion will become clear to you.”

Legolas awoke feeling worse than he had before the dream. He laid awake that night racking his memory, trying to imagine who it was that held Gimli’s heart, and the answer that came to him was no comfort at all. Whom did Gimli idolize? Whose hair did he still carry next to his heart as a token? No wonder Galadriel had been unwilling to clarify. She was far too kind to dash his hopes by telling him that Gimli was in love with her.

 

* * *

 

The next day dawned sunny and breezy, perfect for riding, but Legolas could not find joy in the pleasant weather. It was late in the morning when the grey ruins of Osgiliath came into view on the horizon, and early afternoon when he reined in Arod, the horse’s hooves were loud on the stone pavement. It must have rained in the city earlier, but the rain had since stopped. The streets still shone with moisture. Large puddles sat above long-abandoned sewer drains, slowly filtering down into the pipes. He dismounted and offered a hand up to Gimli. The Dwarf swung his leg over and heavy-booted feet hit the ground with a thud a second later. "Where do you suppose we'll find them?" Legolas asked.

"It appears that they've found us," Gimli responded, pointing off to the right. “Lucky, eh, lad?” Legolas turned to look, and indeed, there was Eowyn coming around the corner of a building onto the wide avenue. Faramir was, as ever, present at her side. They were both clad in drab, practical clothing, suitable for construction work, but they also carried weapons: Eowyn's short sword was belted around her hips, and Faramir likewise had a quiver and bow on his back within easy reach. Eowyn’s long golden hair hung down around her face, concealing her expression. . The two seemed deep in conversation, but they looked up at the sound of unexpected voices. Legolas saw Eowyn’s hand go briefly to her sword hilt before she realized they were friends and relaxed. “Master Elf, Master Dwarf, what brings you to Osgiliath?”

“Just the desire to be of assistance, Lady Eowyn,” Legolas said, inclining his head in a brief bow. “There’s so much work to be done yet that it seemed wasteful to sit about celebrating.” That was the story he and Gimli had agreed to tell.

"How goes the rebuilding?" Gimli asked Faramir curiously. Faramir sighed.

"Slowly," he said. "We've plenty of people willing to help, but they're builders, draftsmen - they've no skill in battle."

"Surely that's exactly what you need?" Gimli asked. "What use are soldiers in peacetime?"

"We've had raids nearly nightly," Eowyn answered grimly in Faramir’s place. "It's very hard to get anything done when the remains of Sauron's forces tear down what you've built every night." She turned to look over her shoulder toward the East. A dark cloud no longer hung over Mordor -- the only clouds in the distance were pale grey rainclouds -- but her hand never left the hilt of her sword. "We've reinforced all the bridges and gates we can find facing East, but they're still getting in somehow. Faramir has no small skill in tracking, and even he has not been able to find where they're coming from."

"Perhaps you could lend a hand, Master Elf?" Faramir asked. "I'm not a proud man, but it still grates on me that I have not been able to find and stop up whatever hole these beasts are sneaking through. I've heard tell of the keen eyes of the Elves."

"Of course," Legolas nodded. "Just show me where you last saw them, and I will see what I can find."

"D'ye have any craftswork that I can help with, Lady?" Gimli asked Eowyn. "I'll be naught but a nuisance to the trackers, here, but I haven't done any honest smithing in an Age, it seems. I’d be happy to lend a hand."

“We have so much yet to do, there must be something we can give you,” Eowyn said, smiling. “I’ll show you to our workshop straightaway, if you like.”

"Can I ask you to find a safe place for him while we search?" Legolas asked Eowyn, gesturing toward Arod. She nodded.

"Of course. We have plenty of clean stalls in the camp stable." She reached out to take Arod's reins; he whickered softly and she put a hand to his nose to steady him before addressing Gimli. "This way, master Dwarf," she said, turning to lead Gimli away down a side street. Arod's hooves clacked loudly on the pavement after them.

Faramir watched as they walked away, his expression fond. "Her first priority when we got here was making sure the horses had a safe, warm place to sleep, even before the people."

"The people of Rohan care deeply for their steeds," Legolas said, remembering the warm and friendly stables of the Rohirrim. They watched the other two round a corner and disappear from sight, and then Faramir beckoned him down another lane.

“The main eastern gate is this way. I’ll show you what I’ve been able to find, so far.”

They walked in companionable silence through the ruins of the city. It was clear that certain districts had been more damaged than others; the closer they got to the eastern banks, the more devastated the buildings became. They went from broken windows and the occasional knocked-in wall to buildings that were more rubble than structure. After a mile or so, they reached a great bridge, crafted from the same grey stone as most of the city. The structure was as wide as the city streets, enough that four wagons could easily travel across it abreast, and it curved gently up from the ground where they stood, reaching across the Anduin to touch its far bank. At the peak of its slope stood a great cast iron gate; one door hung crookedly from its hinges, and the other had fallen out completely. It rested haphazardly on the ground at the top of the bridge. Two figures in metal chestplates and helmets stood by the damaged gate, pikes in hand. Several men and women of Gondor were busily engaged around the foot of the bridge, and the sounds of hammers and shouts of workmen rang in the plaza. Faramir nodded in acknowledgement to those who waved or called out as he passed.

The two of them mounted up the slope of the bridge toward the massive gate. From the top of the bridge, Legolas could see miles in every direction. To the right and left, smaller bridges, most of them crumbled ruins, jutted across the river. Bright metallic figures stood at each of them; the other guardsmen Eowyn had spoken of, Legolas guessed. Out in front of them was a wide strip of tall, brownish-green grass, and, in the distance, the glades of Ithilien.

The guards snapped to attention as Faramir approached.

“Be at ease,” Faramir said, and their postures loosened, if only slightly. “Master Legolas is going to help me find out how these raiding parties are getting in,” he told them. “We should be back before sunset.”

“Yes sir,” the guardswoman on the left said. “We’ll keep an eye out for your return.”

They passed through the gate and strode down toward the open land. “We’ve had men posted at every bridge since the reclamation efforts began,” he said as they navigated around a crater in the bridge surface. “None of them have had any trouble, but we’ve been hit by raids almost nightly. The orcs have to be getting in some other way.” He sighed.

“Do you know of any other ways into the city? Might they be using boats, or tunnels?” Legolas asked, scanning the grass for any sign of tracks. Small hillocks pocked the land around the riverbank, casting strange shadows over the field.

Faramir shook his head. “They haven’t been using any sort of boats; that I can say for certain. They’d have to carry them to the riverbank, and they wouldn’t be able to hide evidence of that. As for tunnels, there’s no record of any old passageways – but I suppose that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Many of our records of the city are incomplete or lost.”

“Possibly a tunnel then,” Legolas said. “Let me see…” He leapt up onto a nearby hillock; the height of it allowed him to see a little more clearly into the shadows among the rises. He was no Ranger, but he had learned a bit of tracking from his year with Aragorn. His sight was an added advantage; a human tracker might miss something that he could see easily.

“Anything?” Faramir asked, watching him as he peered out across the narrow strip of grassland.

Legolas said nothing at first. His gaze jumped from hillock to shadow to glade until finally something stood out to him. “Over there,” he said, pointing. “It’s not easy to see, but the grass around that rise by the treeline—it looks like it’s just in shadow, but it’s actually battered down. Come,” he added, “let us see.”

The sun crept lower and lower in the sky as they slipped through the knee-high stands of spiky grass. Legolas loosened his knives in their sheaths, and Faramir nocked an arrow to his string as they drew closer to the rise. The uneven ground made for slightly rough going; although Legolas himself was fine, he worried that Faramir might turn an ankle as they trudged along. After nearly half an hour of walking, they came to the rise that Legolas had seen. As they came around the side, Legolas saw exactly what he had feared they’d find. Trampled grass and muddy bootprints ran in a line from where they stood directly into the cover of the trees.

Set into the far side of the mound was a dark, yawning hole that sloped gently down into the ground toward the riverbank. The tunnel itself was lined with the same grey stones the city was made from, and a dull gate, caked with rust, hung down into its mouth. The gate appeared to lock on the inside, but the latch had been thrown years past. Faramir planted a booted foot inside the opening and gave the door a mighty pull, but it didn’t move. He stepped back with a grim look.

“This must run under the river into the sewers, probably was an old maintenance tunnel. We have to get back and warn the others. Until we can close this, we’re not going to be safe.”

Legolas nodded in agreement. The sun shone in their eyes as they headed back to the city as quickly as they could go over the rocky ground. The orange light cast the skyline of Osgiliath into stark shadows, and they hurried toward the dark shape of the bridge.

 

* * *

 

They passed through the iron gates with a brusque greeting to the new pair of guards that stood there. Faramir strode purposefully through the now-quiet plaza and toward the glow of firelight down the lane. As they came around the corner of a building, they were greeted by a barricade, cobbled together from old wooden doors and broken gates. Faramir called out a greeting, and a head popped up from behind the rocks.

“Come on in, my lord!” the figure called out. They hurried past the barricade and were greeted by the sight of a bustling camp. The space they stood in appeared to have once been a square or courtyard: a squat well sat in the center, and spindly trees with a few tentative buds on them lined the outside. Lanterns all around lit the space nearly as bright as day, and the work crew bustled about cleaning themselves up after the day’s labor. The spicy smell of stew wafted over the evening breeze, but Faramir clearly had no mind for the food. He circled around the hustle and bustle in the center of the plaza and headed straight for a building at the rear. Legolas followed him, and as they got closer, he heard a voice ring out.

"Lad, I was in a smithy before you were old enough to walk, I think I know what I'm about!” His heart lifted at the sound of Gimli’s voice despite the somber news he and Faramir carried. A voice he guessed was the blacksmith sputtered at the dismissal, and Eowyn’s quiet laughter followed. As they passed through the doorway of the smith’s shop, the heat of the forge hit him like a wall. His mind jumped involuntarily to thoughts of the balrog and he repressed a shudder. Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he took in the surroundings. Gimli stood with his back to the company at the forge, nearly a silhouette against the bright blaze of the fire. A put-out-looking man in a huge leather apron stood at the bellows, arms crossed, watching the Dwarf work. Eowyn also sat in the shop, atop one of a line of barrels along the wall. She smiled at them when they came in, but seemed taken aback at the grim set of Faramir’s expression.

“Ha, got it!” Gimli yelled triumphantly, turning from the forge fire with a white-hot rod of metal clamped in a pair of tongs. “Ah, Master Elf. You’ve returned just in time to see me show this fellow how this is done,” he said, grinning at his new audience. He carried the metal over to the anvil and began shaping it against the hard surface. “How did your scouting go?” he asked between the clangs of the hammer.

“Not well,” Faramir answered. Eowyn slid down from the barrel where she sat and came over to him.

“What did you find?” she asked them.

Faramir explained to her quietly about the maintenance tunnel they’d found. Legolas watched as Gimli switched to other tools and began shaping the metal into some implement he didn’t recognize, although he suspected it was used for construction.

“We should ride out and face them,” Eowyn declared. “Sitting around waiting for them to raid us is doing us no favors.”

“But the grate would remain open,” he pointed out. “Something must be done about that as well.”

“What if we did both?” Gimli asked, dropping the tool he’d made into a cooling barrel and sending up a cloud of steam. “Send one party to fix the hole and one to keep the orcs busy while they do it?” Faramir and Eowyn looked at each other, considering. “Legolas and I could do it – he could cover my back while I did the real work,” Gimli added, a twinkle in his eye, “and then you don’t have to waste any of your soldiers on that part of the plan.”

“It could work,” Faramir mused. “Let’s see if we can find anything to replace that grille with. Eowyn, If you would gather some volunteers from the guardsmen, we can probably mount an attack tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Although he had confidence in Gimli’s plan, Legolas slept poorly that night. It was eerily silent in the stone city, and every errant tap of stone on stone seemed to foretell a raid. He tossed and turned in his bedroll as Gimli snored peacefully beside him. His dreams came sporadically, and seemed to be full of Galadriel’s face, but he was unsure if she was actually trying to contact him or if he was just jealously dreaming of the one Gimli loved. Either way, her voice echoed in his mind when he awoke: “Speak to him. He will understand.”

Maybe he would do that. Whether she was real or not, the Galadriel he’d dreamed about had a point: Gimli was his best friend. Maybe it would be better to get this all out in the open, so they could move past the painful rejection and start to heal. The idea of confessing was on his mind the whole morning; he went through the motions of getting dressed, eating a quick breakfast, and rehashing the finer details of the plan one last time with Eowyn and Faramir.

Gimli seemed to realize he was in a strange mood, and refrained from starting any sort of conversation. He seemed intent on the weight he carried, anyway; the iron grate they’d scavenged from an old warehouse must have weighed an enormous amount, and he was not as light on his feet as Legolas. They made progress across the wide plain slowly, alert for any trouble. Gimli’s face was red with the exertion, but he made no sound outside of his puffing breaths. Legolas, carrying only the tools they’d need to lock the grate in place, felt useless to help him. They reached the rusted grille set into the foot of the hillside, and Gimli stepped forward to tinker with its hinges. The grass around it appeared even more trampled than the last time Legolas had been there. It appeared that a large number of orcs had passed through the dark doorway quite recently, but the camp had not been attacked the previous night; he wondered where they all had gone.

Legolas knelt and pulled the crowbar out of his pack. The sun, still high in the sky, beat down on them, but their mismatched luck seemed to be holding still. The grate pulled free of its moorings without a sound. Off in the distance, he thought he heard a battlecry and the crashing of steel. The other party seemed to have found the orcs’ camp.

"Gimli, there is something we must discuss," Legolas began in a low voice, as Gimli lifted the old grate out of its hinges with a grunt. Stepping aside, he tossed it into the grass and heaved the new one into place. It covered the hole the old one had left perfectly.  
  
"Is now really the time, laddie?" he whispered back. He was red-faced and sweaty and Legolas's heart twisted in his chest, he wanted to kiss him so badly. Instead he just handed him the thick bolts they’d brought, and watched as Gimli hammered them into the old holes in the stone.  
  
"I must speak of it soon or my heart will burst with it," Legolas said hastily. "I know who your One is."  
  
Gimli's face, or what he could make of it, went white, and he continued before the Dwarf could interject.  
  
"I have come to care for you, _mellon nin_ , quite deeply. I know you have no choice in your fated dwarven love, but it cannot be healthy for you to pine for what you cannot ever have."  
  
Legolas watched his friend’s expression crumple as he spoke. There was silence in the small valley for a while, and then Gimli spoke in a strange, cold tone. "Very well. If that’s all you have to say on the matter, so be it. When we return to Minas Tirith, we shall part ways, and my affections will no longer trouble you."

“They don’t trouble me, friend, I just wanted to offer my—“

“You’ve said your piece, lad, leave it.” There was a harsh and dangerous note in Gimli’s voice, and Legolas frantically thought back over what he had said, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. Apparently the luck _from_ love didn’t extend to luck _in_ love. Gimli tugged roughly at the bars on the new grate. The lock held steady; it didn’t budge. “Let’s get back to the city,” he said gruffly, and set off across the grass while Legolas scrambled to shove all the tools back into his pack.

They returned to the city in silence, and met up with the party Faramir and Eowyn had led out. They’d discovered the orcs’ camp, Eowyn explained, and defeated them easily, but there were far fewer than they’d expected – certainly not enough to pull off the regular raids they’d been experiencing. Legolas was so distracted by his utter failure that he barely registered what she was saying.

 

* * *

 

Satisfied that the amulet had done what it could where they were, they prepared to ride out from Osgiliath late that afternoon.

Eowyn seemed to notice that something seemed off, and was unsurprised when they expressed their plans to leave the city and return to Minas Tirith. “Can we offer you anything in thanks for your help?” she asked as they fixed their gear to Arod’s saddle.

“Of course not, milady,” Gimli said.

“We were just happy to do what we could,” Legolas agreed, and they clasped hands with Eowyn and Faramir in farewell.

It was a hazy and warm day, and the wide plain between Osgiliath and Minas Tirith shimmered with heat. Far in the distance, the city gleamed white against the dark faces of the mountains. Legolas was quiet, deep in thought; Gimli had been distant and strange since that morning, and he feared that he’d damaged their friendship irreparably. He was so lost in his concerns that he nearly tumbled from the saddle when a black arrow whistled past them. Pulling Arod up abruptly, he turned just in time to see an orc archer scramble back down into a valley he hadn’t noticed.

“Do you think he was alone?” Legolas asked, staring at the distant knoll.

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Gimli said, his expression grim. Soon enough, dozens of orcs poured over the rise, weapons raised. “See? They wondered why the camp outside Osgiliath had been so small – I think I found out where the bulk of ‘em went.” Legolas suddenly remembered the crushed grass around the tunnel opening and realized what had happened.

“They must have come through the sewers all the way out to the other side of the city,” he said. “A party this size won’t be able to scratch the walls of Minas Tirith, but we can’t let them get back into Osgiliath.” Legolas leapt down from Arod’s back; Gimli came tumbling down after him.

“A noble idea, lad, but do you think we can take care of this many ourselves?”

“We can try.” Legolas pulled his bowstring back and loosed his first arrow as Gimli freed his axe from his belt. They were both skilled fighters, and they had the lucky amulet on their side, but the odds seemed set against them. It was suddenly do or die, and Legolas decided he did not want to leave this realm without having reconciled with his best friend.

As the party of orcs moved in around them, Legolas shifted to place his back against Gimli’s. Arod shied away as barbed arrows flew around his head. Rearing up, he kicked the air and then ran off into the grass.

“Gimli, I must tell you something,” he began, taking a deep steadying breath. Orcs continued to fall beneath his arrows as he spoke. “I know that something I said hurt you.” He felt his friend tense up against his back at that. “In case we don’t make it out of this—“

“Can’t we just bury this, lad?” Gimli said roughly. He swung out at the first orc who came in reach of his axe, clipping it squarely in the neck. It went down, gurgling and cursing.

“Please, _mellon nin,_ let me say this,” he pleaded. He lashed out with the arrow in his hand and caught a nearby orc in the eye; nocking it to the string, he sent it flying into the forehead of another.

“Say your piece, then, lad, if you really think this is the end,” the Dwarf said. He laid about with the axe with as much energy as ever, but there was a defeated note in his voice.

"I had hoped-" Legolas said in a strangled voice. He unsheathed his knives and set to work, watching Gimli’s face out of the corner of his eye. "You have told me that dwarves only fall in love once. I know now that I was not the one to win your heart, but I had selfishly hoped that, perhaps… Perhaps when you realized that the Lady Galadriel did not reciprocate, that you might accept me as next-best."

"...what?" Gimli asked in shock, his voice hoarse. His axe drooped for a second. An orc's slash, dangerously close to his face, snapped him back to attention.

"Must I say it again?" Legolas cried. His white knives flashed and two more orcs fell. He switched back to his bow and began picking off the creatures as they came. "I care for you more than anything, Gimli son of Gloin. I would spend my lifetime with none but you. I am a poor substitute for one as fair as Galadriel, but—"

"You great fool!" Gimli bellowed, laying about with his axe. "Mahal save us from the stupidity of the Elves! Who ever said I was in love with the Lady?"

It was Legolas’s turn to falter; he fumbled his second-to-last arrow as he tried to put it to the string. He spun to face Gimli and loosed his arrow into the skull of the orc Gimli had been about to decapitate. The Dwarf scowled at him, reining in his swing with a grunt. No more orcs charged them; indeed, it seemed as though they’d managed to slay them all. The amulet was luckier than he’d expected it to be. Legolas scanned the field and saw one hunched figure trying to make a run for it. The orc made it three more paces before falling with his final bolt in its brain. He affixed his bow back in its place on his back and turned back to his friend. Gimli’s breath came in heavy puffs as he stared at the Elf.

“But she told me…” Legolas recalled the dream in which he and Galadriel had spoken with a growing sense of shock at how obtuse he had been. “I’ve been so foolish.”

Gimli’s countenance became even more confused, if that was possible, but he cautiously reached out and took Legolas’s hand. Bright spots of color bloomed in the Dwarf’s cheeks, but his tone was sharply amused; the grim shadow that had clouded his personality since that morning had been lifted. “Well, clearly, lad, but what do you mean?”

“The amulet!” He cried, moving in closer to Gimli. “She said it only works on two people in love, but the Lady never said they had to be in love with each other! I thought…” he swallowed hard and continued. “I thought all this time that we were only having so much luck because of some trick of the spell. I thought you were going to notice and realize my secret.”

“Well, I thought you had grown tired of me! Telling me you knew who my One was, telling me I’d never have them!” Gimli shot back. He pulled Legolas in close, cupping his cheek in a broad hand. “Great Mahal, lad,” he breathed. “That was the worst conversation I think I’ve ever had.”

Legolas leaned into the warmth of Gimli’s hand. The satisfaction of having the Dwarf in his arms at last was tempered by embarrassment at just how stupid he’d been. “I’m so sorry, _mellon nin_ , _meleth nin_ , I—”

Gimli cut him off with a kiss, clearing his mind permanently of the flurry of guilt and doubt that had been plaguing him for months. Legolas buried his fingers in the coarse hair at the back of Gimli’s neck, and leaned down to kiss his friend the way he had dreamed of so many times. This was a magic greater than any lucky necklace could summon.

After a long moment, Legolas pulled away, resting his forehead against Gimli’s. “We should be getting back,” he said. “We still have to give Aragorn and Arwen their gift, after all, and this-” He hesitated, then continued, looking around the battlefield. “This is no place for the things I wish to do with you,” he finished in a rush of breath. He felt a blush rise on his cheeks at the impropriety of his thoughts, but Gimli just nodded.

Arod had run off a ways during the fight, spooked by the noise, but Legolas whistled for him and he cautiously trotted over to where they stood.

“Aye, the sooner we get back the better. Come here, ye traitorous beast,” Gimli said to Arod, scrambling back up into the saddle. Legolas mounted up in front of him. Gimli reached around to grasp his waist as he always did, pressing his torso against his back, and if the contact had set his imagination afire before, it was nothing to now, when all his secret dreams appeared to be coming true.

“Let’s go home,” Gimli said, and Legolas kicked Arod into a gallop across the plain.

 

* * *

 

The guards on the walls of the White City must have seen them riding in from a long ways off, because they were greeted at the gates by a messenger.

“His majesty bids you welcome back to Minas Tirith, Masters,” she said, bowing deeply. “He asks that you attend him in the small court at your earliest convenience.”

“We’d be happy to,” Gimli told her, and Legolas turned Arod to canter up the streets toward the palace.

As they reached the courtyard of the palace, a stablehand came forward to collect Arod, and they dismounted and headed inside. They quickly reached the small court, a chamber that could only be considered ‘small’ in comparison to the throne room. A liveried page opened the door, looking askance at their battle-filthy clothing, and announced their names in clear tones. Aragorn and Arwen sat at the end of the chamber on two ornate chairs. Aragorn sprung from his and rushed forward to greet them at the sound of the page’s voice; Arwen stood sedately and followed him down into the center of the room.

“I have missed you, my friends,” he said, grinning broadly. “But it seems you got into trouble on the way home,” he added, raising an eyebrow at the state of their clothes.

“Just a few orcs, Aragorn, nothing to worry about,” Legolas said.

“They won’t be bothering Osgiliath anymore, though,” Gimli added.

“So Osgiliath was where you snuck off to?” Aragorn asked. “That’s not so mysterious after all. I fear I have driven Arwen to distraction wondering what you two were up to these last few weeks. What did Lady Galadriel need of you that took you there?”

“Well, Osgiliath was a bit of a detour,” Gimli admitted.

“When we left the White City, we did not tell you our full purpose, Aragorn,” Legolas began. “We were indeed doing a favor for the Lady of Lorien, but it involved you and your queen at its heart.”

“Oh?” Aragorn prompted him for more. Arwen looked at them, curious.

“Gimli, go ahead.” Legolas said. Gimli knelt and retrieved the wrapped bundle from his satchel.

“We spoke at length with the Lady during your wedding, you know,” he said, holding the wrapped necklace delicately in both hands. “She expressed great dismay that she had not been able to give you two a gift suitable to the occasion. She asked us to retrieve this for you.” He passed the amulet to Arwen.

She gasped as she pulled the golden chain out from the scraps of fabric they’d stored it in. “It’s lovely,” she said.

“The Lady said she meant to give it to you a long time ago, but it was lost to her,” Legolas said. “It has a spell laid upon it,” he added. “It brings good luck to couples in love.”

“Works, too,” Gimli added, tucking the wrapping cloths back into his bag. “You wouldn’t believe the luck we’ve had since we found it.” Legolas froze, and he, Aragorn, and Arwen all looked at Gimli in disbelief. “What?” he said to Legolas’s stunned expression. “Don’t give me that daft look! Didn’t we just learn that we _shouldn’t_ keep secrets from friends?”

Legolas opened his mouth to protest, and realized that Gimli was in the right. “We’ve just really started figuring it out today,” he told Aragorn, chagrined, and was shocked to see the man pull a face.

“Only today? My friends, the rest of us have been waiting for months for the two of you to admit your feelings!” he said. Legolas looked at him, dumbfounded. “I think Merry and Pippin had a wager,” he continued, almost to himself. “I’ll have to write them so they can settle.” He noticed the look on Legolas’s face and laughed. “I’m so happy for you, truly,” he said, clapping Legolas on the shoulder. “You both deserve every happiness.”

“I suppose we’ll owe you two a wedding gift soon enough,” Arwen said, beaming at the pair of them. “Thank you so much for the gift—I will have to send my thanks to my grandmother as well. It is truly a treasure, and more so that it brought you together.” She turned to Aragorn. “Shall we let your friends go? They’ve had a long journey and I’m sure they’d like to get cleaned up and rest,” she said.

Gimli cleared his throat roughly. “You are most welcome for the gift, milady, and thank you for your kindness,” he said, bowing slightly. “We _are_ quite tired from our journey,” he added, shuffling his feet.

He glanced at Legolas, who added, “I will certainly be glad of a change of clothes, thank you.”

“The rooms you had before have been kept up for you,” Aragorn said. “Rest well, my friends.”

They turned to head back to their chambers; Legolas ignored the curious look the page at the small court’s door gave him as they passed. He nearly tripped over his feet in the corridor when Gimli reached over and laced their fingers together.

“Distracted, lad?” Gimli asked.

“Just thinking of what Aragorn said,” he confessed. “How long have we been dancing around each other? How much sooner could we have had this—” he squeezed the hand he held “—if I’d been less thickheaded?”

“Well, I can’t be the thickheaded one all the time,” Gimli teased, and Legolas laughed.

“Well, I suppose you have a point there.”

Gimli’s suite was the first they came to in the guest chambers, and he turned to Legolas when they reached the door. “Would you, ah, like to come in?” he asked, spots of color blooming on his cheeks.

“Yes, of course,” Legolas answered, smiling, and Gimli pulled him through the door by their clasped hands.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a wild ride and so much fun. Thanks to the big bang mods for organizing this, the lovely gremlinloquacious for providing the awesome art, and my bff for editing and generally listening to me moan about words.  
> (original art post: http://gremlinloquacious.tumblr.com/post/88608823490/my-gigolas-big-bang-contribution-lost-and-found)  
> (my tumblr if you wanna come be friends or something: http://thesnowqueer.tumblr.com/)


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